


Hoochie-Coochie Baby

by Murataku



Category: Maddigan's Quest (TV)
Genre: Gen, Other Fantasia Members
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25214317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murataku/pseuds/Murataku
Summary: Moments in a tiny family's life, watched from a distance.
Relationships: Yves & Lilith





	1. Your Problem Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s just curious. It’s just a whim. It won’t last.

People saw the circus backwards.

They thought the magic was in the show they sat and watched for an hour or two before going on with their lives. And the show was always a joy, sure. A world of music and wonders and surprises where anything could happen. Where magic was real, if just for a little while. And behind it all, a troupe working together seamlessly like one big machine to make it all happen.

But that wasn’t magic. It was just smoke and mirrors and bloody hard work.

The real magic, if there was any at all, was in the people. The community. The days spent travelling, the nights spent sitting around the campfire, eating together, sharing stories, and just existing as a family that were the true magic of their world.

An even better magic trick, thought Goneril as she sipped tentatively at her steaming cup of turnip soup, would be Bailey making the dinners actually taste any good.

Sitting next to her, Tane took a sip from his own cup and winced at her theatrically, sticking out his tongue and groaning.

“Ohh, it’s even worse than last night’s.”

Goneril rolled her eyes. The man was a clown, plain and simple.

“This is turnip soup. Last night was turnip soup. It’s the same, idiot.”

Tane peered into his cup. “You don’t think he’s just reused what we spat out, do you?” He looked up at her and waggled his eyebrows. “Here’s hoping he poured the right spit back into the right cups.”

Next to them Nye raised his cup in silent agreement. Goneril dug her elbow into Tane’s side.

“Shush the both of you. I’m trying to eat.”

“It’s not so bad.” Bannister. Off in his own world as usual, a cup of soup in one hand and a book clenched faithfully in the other.

“You’re not paying attention enough to taste it.”

“That’s how I managed to eat enough of it to get this big.”

Tane opened his mouth to speak when suddenly a shout rang out from the dark.

“Get back here!”

Then there were thudding footfalls, and everybody looked up from their cups to see a shape coming out of the gloom.

Ferdy, sitting closest, called out, his hand inching towards the crossbow resting against his leg.

“Who’s there?”

“Just me.”

Everybody relaxed as the shape turned into the familiar figure of Yves, his long coat tugged tight around him to keep out the cold.

Yves stalked into the light of the campfire and dropped a bundle at Ferdy’s feet before settling on a sandbag. Right at Ferdy’s right side, Goneril noticed with a smirk. Man was so transparent he was practically a window.

Ferdy just chuckled and handed him a cup of soup. “Kept some warm for you.” He nodded down at the bundle. “What’s this?”

Yves took a swig of his soup and winced, then shrugged. “Don’t know. Some idiot was poking around in front of my truck and ran off when I came out. Must’ve dropped it or something.”

Ferdy raised his eyebrows. “You probably scared him off.”

Yves lowered his cup and looked thoughtful. “I think it was a girl, actually.” he said slowly.

“Then you definitely scared her off!” chuckled Tane and Goneril ducked her head to hide a smile. She knew it wasn’t helpful for Tane to go for Yves as often as he did, but the man was a clown. It was hardly his fault that Yves made it so easy.

“Go bung it in a hole, Tane.” growled Yves. He gestured to the bundle of rags with his free hand. “Anyway. There it is.”

Maddie, sitting on Ferdy’s other side with a sleeping Garland at her feet, leant over to look. “There’s something attached to it. Look-“ She reached down and tugged off a small square of white. “Some paper?” She frowned and looked closer, but startled when the bundle began to make a sound that sent Goneril’s heart plummeting into her stomach.

It started to cry.

In an instant Maddie handed the slip of paper to Ferdy and had the bundle in her lap. Silence fell over the camp as she slowly parted the rags to reveal a tiny round face.

“It’s a baby.” Her voice was grave.

Mutters ran round the circle as Maddie rocked it gently back to sleep.

“A baby?”

“Who would leave a baby?”

“What?”

Yves shook his head. “We can’t keep it. We’ll have to take it back.”

Goneril glared at him from across the campfire. “Yves, we don’t know whose it is.”

“Does it matter? We’re not an orphanage, Goneril. People can’t just dump babies on us when then don’t want them anymore!”

“We took in Boomer, didn’t we?”

“We _found_ Boomer. He wasn’t dumped in our laps by some stupid girl.”

“Ah, you just can’t stand babies.” Said Bannister, not looking up from his book.

Ferdy put up a hand and the circle hushed. He was staring intently at the slip of paper Maddie had given him, his lips moving silently. Eventually he spoke.

“Yves, do you know what this is?”

Yves glanced at it and shrugged. “It’s paper.”

Ferdy shook his head. “Not just paper. It’s a note.”

Yves gave it another glance. “So?”

“Yves.” Ferdy’s voice was oddly heavy. “Do you know what this says?”

Yves let out a huff of impatience. “You know I don’t.”

Ferdy sighed. “It says ‘Your problem now, Yves.’”

The silence stretched on a moment longer, then the circle burst into noise again.

“His?”

“Poor kid.”

“Doesn’t look like him.”

“Thank goodness for that.”

“Stop it, don’t be awful.”

Goneril didn’t join in the chatter. She just stared at Yves from across the campfire. She expected him to snap or yell or argue, but he didn’t. He just sat quietly and stared at the baby, his expression unreadable.

Ferdy coughed and motioned for quiet. “In a way, this helps us narrow it down. Any ideas who the mother could be, Yves?” He was trying to sound neutral, but that didn’t stop every eye being on Yves as he thought it over.

“Not really.” He said eventually. He glared around the circle like he was daring them to comment. “It’s dark out. I didn’t get a good look.”

The baby stirred at Ferdy’s feet. Yves leant down and picked it up.

“What is it, anyway?” He asked, prodding its tiny chest curiously.

“A baby!” giggled Bannister. Yves shot him a glare.

“I know that.”

“A girl.” Maddie.

Yves dropped his eyes to the baby in his lap. “Have to think of something to call her.” he muttered.

“I thought we weren’t an orphanage.” said Tane, sounding as bewildered as Goneril felt.

“When did I say that?” Yves said absently, still staring at the baby. His baby. He looked like he couldn’t quite believe it. A quick glance around the circle told Goneril that nobody else could quite take it in either.

She got up and reached for the bundle. “You’ll wake her. Give her here.”

Suddenly Yves jerked back, hugging the baby to his chest.

“No!” He snapped.

Goneril raised her eyebrows. “No?”

Yves shut his eyes. “No.” He repeated, more gently this time. He opened his eyes and looked down at the baby fast asleep in his arms. His eyes were glued to it. “I can do it.” He jerked his head up like he was shaking out of a daze and met Goneril’s incredulous expression. “Like the note said, she’s my problem.”

Goneril was about to tell Yves not to be stupid, but suddenly Ferdy stood and clapped his hands.

“I don’t know about you all, but I’m tired. Yves wants to take our little friend for tonight, and as it looks like he’s her father I’d say he has the right to. We can vote on what to do with her long-term in the morning.”

For a moment Goneril wanted to object, but Ferdy had made his decision and that was that. So as Ferdy reminded Bannister not to read on Watch, she just turned away from Yves and left him to it. It wasn’t her problem, and it wasn’t as if she liked babies anyway. There was no point wasting her time on it.

After all, Goneril figured, this wouldn’t last. Yves had taken the sprog because he was curious, or on a whim. Or to look good for the ringmaster’s wife, she thought darkly. Maddie wouldn’t notice, or the baby would get loud, or Yves would just get tired of it, and then the poor bub would end up dumped in Goneril’s lap and forgotten about.

People didn’t change that quickly.


	2. Lilith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out he's not completely out of his depth. Just mostly.

You’d never believe one tiny body could be that loud.

They’d eventually voted to keep the baby. Nobody knew who the mother was, not even her father, so there would be nowhere to take her except an orphanage. And nobody wanted that, least of all the father himself. To everybody’s surprise, he seemed adamant she stay with him.

Not only that, he seemed determined to handle the situation alone. He never handed her off to anybody else, instead carrying her around when he didn’t need his hands and putting her down nearby when he did. Goneril thought she’d caught him experimenting with turning an old scarf into a sling, but evidently it hadn’t worked out. He set her on his lap or at his feet while he ate, and at night he slept with her lying on his chest. All in all, he went about his business as best he could, day in, day out.

And, through it all, the little sprog cried.

She cried in the morning, driving the company from their beds at first light.

She cried during practice, testing performers’ concentration to the limit.

She cried all night, sending people scrambling for thicker pillows to hold over their ears as they slept.

She cried and cried, in the most piercing voice Goneril had ever heard a human make, and it seemed she’d never stop until one day when Goneril’s truck door burst open and a very haggard Yves thudded in holding the screaming baby in his arms.

Goneril counted up the days in her head. He’d lasted a week before cracking. It was almost impressive.

“Well, that was quick.” said Goneril, hardly looking up from her cards. “Don’t think you can dump her on me now that you’re bored of her. I won’t have it.”

Yves paced the truck, the picture of a man at his wits’ end. “I’m not here to dump her. I just…” The baby gurgled in his arms and then continued to howl. Yves groaned. “She won’t stop crying!”

“I’ve noticed. What’s it got to do with me?”

“You know about babies, don’t you? Make her stop.”

Goneril folded her arms. “She’s a baby. They cry.”

“Not this much!”

Goneril turned away from him and went back to sorting her cards. “Some of them do.” she said dismissively, hoping he’d give up.

But Yves wasn’t that easy to shake. “Look, what if she’s sick?”

One look at his face over her shoulder told Goneril that Yves thought he was being sly. He wasn’t always easy to see through, but Goneril wouldn’t be a card reader worth her salt if she couldn’t read people. And Yves was running on fumes - had to be, or else he would never have come for help in the first place. At that moment he couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d shouted.

Unfortunately for Goneril, ulterior motives or not, in this case Yves was still right.

The baby had been voted in. She was one of them now. And that meant that if she needed help, she was given it. No arguments. No refusals. They looked after their own.

“Fine. Give us here and let’s have a look.” grumbled Goneril, taking the baby from Yves and holding her up to inspect. “Well, she’s old enough to not need her mum, lucky for you.”

Yves nodded hopefully and Goneril continued her inspection.

“You’ve been feeding her?”

“Yes.”

Goneril held her close and took a sniff. “Doesn’t smell, so I guess you’ve changed her.”

“Yeah.”

“Surprised you know how.”

He shrugged. “Got left with Boomer a few times. It’s not that different.” The baby wailed louder and Yves winced. “Look, just tell me how to make her stop! I’ve played with her, I’ve rocked her, I’ve sung to her. She won’t shut up!”

“Alright. What’ve you sung her?”

Yves shrugged again. “Songs. _The Postman’s Daughter_ , _The Ballad of Esky Mornell…_ ” He trailed off as Goneril put up a hand.

“What’re you doing, singing songs like that to a bub?”

Yves looked perplexed. “She’s a baby. She’s not going to care.” He must’ve realised this was the wrong answer, because he stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t know any other songs, alright? Anyway, they work on Boomer.”

“Boomer’s a quiet kid. Anything’ll settle him down. But this one,” she nodded down at the still whimpering baby, “is a different sort altogether. You can’t sing songs like that and expect it to work.”

“I’ve sung every bloody song I can think of, it doesn’t make a difference. She just keeps crying!” snapped Yves, obviously starting to lose his patience. But Goneril was older than Yves and much more ornery to boot, and she wasn’t going to be cowed.

“Of course she’s crying! All the places and people she’s used to are gone, she’s surrounded by strangers in big noisy trucks, and now some rowdy idiot is singing drinking songs at her.”

“I’m not an idiot and I’m not a stranger. I’m her father.” said Yves with a glare.

“She doesn’t know that!” Goneril handed the baby back to Yves and put her hands on her hips. “She’s not sick. She’s just upset. It’s a new place with new people, and you’re not helping her with all the noise you make. You can’t do anything about stomping and shouting around at Ferdy’s heel all day, but you can at least not try to put her to sleep to the sounds of a noisy pub.”

Yves shifted from foot to foot. “What, then?” he said in a voice of pure desperation.

The look on his tired face was so pathetic that despite her best efforts Goneril could feel herself softening.

“Just give her some quiet.”

Yves blinked at her. “Oh.” He looked down at his daughter in his arms, closed his eyes, and hummed something softly. Just a snatch of a tune, something Goneril only half-recognised and Yves probably only half-remembered anyway. Goneril watched him for a short while then got back to packing away her cards. Once she finished she looked up again to see Yves, eyes still shut, lean down and mutter in the baby’s ear.

“Come on, Lilith, please. Sleep.” He opened his eyes and looked up to meet Goneril’s gaze. She raised her eyebrows.

“Lilith?”

“Yeah.” Yves fidgeted and looked away. “Like my mother. She won’t know her own mum but I thought she can at least get something from mine.” he muttered.

“Pretty name.”

Stupid comment, really. Meaningless. But she didn’t know what else to say. Still, she pulled herself together.

“Well, you better thank your mum, wherever she is.” Goneril pointed at the baby in his arms, who had finally stopped crying. “Knows what she’s doing.”

Yves looked down at Lilith, then back up at Goneril. He looked about to say something, but then seemed to decide against it and instead gave a brisk nod.

“Right. Thanks.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked out.

Goneril deliberately didn’t watch him go. She wasn’t getting involved in this rubbish any more than she had already. She’d given Yves some advice but that was for her own sake, not his. Otherwise she washed her hands of it.

And it wasn’t like it meant anything, anyway. Anything Goneril might have thought she saw in that conversation was all just in her head. Yves still thought he could see something in this game for him.

That was all.


	3. The Best Sort of Person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hard conversations don't go away just because you don't want to have them.

“Dad. Do I have a mum?”

That, thought Goneril as she stood by the side of Yves’ truck, fist hanging frozen mid-knock, had to be the last thing Yves wanted to hear.

Especially when Lilith was meant to be asleep and he was about to start his shift on watch. 

From inside Goneril heard a man groan and blankets shift. She spent a moment fighting a losing battle against nosiness before lowering her fist and moving over to peek in the window. Just to have a stickybeak, Goneril told herself. Just for a second or two, then she’d knock on the truck and be on her way.

Through a crack in the curtain she could see Lilith lying in her hammock, lit up by the little oil lamp whose light she still slept by. Lilith had grown too big to share a bunk with Yves anymore, so he’d rigged her up a hammock from an old sack and strung it from the roof of the van to hang above him. She’d complained for days to anyone who would listen that it itched or it smelled or she didn’t like the colour, but it looked like she slept in it all the same.

“Everybody has a mum, Lilith. Go back to sleep.” Yves’ voice sounded thick and bleary.

“Yeah, but where is she?”

“I don’t know. Go back to sleep.”

There was a rustling noise and Goneril saw Lilith lean over the side of her hammock to look down at her father. Goneril chuckled as she imagined it from Yves’ point of view. A tiny, pouting face appearing above him in the dead of night. One of the joys of being a parent. “Why isn’t she here with us?”

Goneril heard Yves groan again and feet thud on the floor. Evidently he’d worked out this conversation wasn’t going away just because he wanted it to. She almost felt sorry for him. “She just isn’t. It’s just you and me, okay?”

Through the window Goneril saw Lilith’s little hand make a fist in her blanket, and her voice took on that dreaded whine. “It’s not fair. Garland has a mum and a dad and she knows where both of them are and they play with her all the time!”  
Goneril winced. She definitely felt sorry for Yves now. It was far too early in the morning for this.

“Yeah, and Boomer doesn’t have any parents at all.” said Yves, his tone beginning to grow sharp. “Why do you suddenly care about it now? Who put you onto this?”

Lilith shrugged. “Those other kids today-”

“The ones you were playing with?”

Goneril remembered those kids. Lilith had a way of finding children to play with wherever they went. Being part of a travelling circus made her seem strange and exotic to the locals, and Lilith ate up the attention like she needed it to breathe. The kids that day had been noisy, but they’d all thought at the time that they’d just been playing. Lilith had come away upset once it was time to move on, but Lilith getting upset wasn’t exactly new. She’d settled down pretty fast after Yves bribed her with some lollies, as always. Thank Solis for her sweet tooth. 

“They asked where my mum was, and when I said she wasn’t anywhere they said she must be dead, and when I said I didn’t know they called me a liar.”

Goneril heard Yves groan yet again, muffled this time, and had a sudden image of him burying his face in his hands. “Lilith, honey…” he said, in a voice that ached to talk about anything else.

“They said it’s weird to not have a mum and a dad or to at least know what happened to one or the other. Even if your mum or dad’s dead they said you’re supposed to know why. I don’t even know who my mum is!”

“I don’t know either!” Yves snapped in clear frustration. 

Goneril heard Lilith gasp. There was a pause, then footsteps as Yves’ head came into view, looking his daughter in the eye. Goneril shuffled further from the window, staying out of sight. But she couldn’t stop herself watching. 

Yves didn’t look angry, just tired. When he spoke again his voice was gentle. “I’m sorry, honey. I really don’t know who your mum is.” He tucked Lilith’s blankets around her, still talking as he worked. “You know I’d tell you if I knew, don’t you, darling?”

Lilith sniffled. “I guess.” She snuggled a little deeper under her blankets, the remains of her tantrum evaporating under her father’s attention. Yves kept working, Goneril figured more to give himself something to do than anything else.

“You know I haven’t always been the best sort of person.” He chuckled. “I’m probably still not.”

“I think you’re the best person ever.” mumbled Lilith as her eyes started to drift shut.

Yves ruffled her hair.

“Thanks.”

Yves’ hands stilled and he stared down at his daughter for a moment before starting to turn away. 

“Right, think it’s my turn. Get some sleep.”

Suddenly Lilith’s hand shot out and caught his sleeve.

“If you don’t know who my mum is, how’d you get me?”

Yves froze mid-stride. For a moment he stood still as a statue, then Goneril watched as he slowly turned back to face Lilith. He was frowning hard, his eyes flicking back and forth in thought.

Goneril found herself edging closer to the window again, caution forgotten as she waited to hear how he’d lie his way out of this. To her amazement, he didn’t.

“Someone put you in front of my truck door and ran off. I don’t know who it was because it was dark. I couldn’t see them.” His tone was even and his face was calm. He held himself straight and his chin high. No embarrassment, no shame.

Shockingly, Lilith accepted this just as calmly.

“Oh. How did you know I was yours?”

“They left a note.”

Lilith frowned and opened her mouth. Yves got in faster.

“Ferdy read it.” he said curtly. 

“Okay.” She fiddled with her father’s sleeve. “Why’d you keep me?”

Yves stared. “Because you’re my daughter.” He said, as if it were obvious. Standing outside the truck, Goneril felt a pang of guilt.

“Yeah, but, I’m my mum’s daughter too and she-“ Lilith stopped as Yves raised a hand.

“That doesn’t matter. It’s you and me. That’s all we need.” He gave her hair another ruffle. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Lilith nodded and let go of her father’s sleeve. “I guess it’s okay if we don’t know.”

“Yeah.” Yves looked up and out the window, sending Goneril crouching down in a panic. “See you later.”

Goneril heard the truck door slam and heavy footsteps as Yves headed for the truck’s ladder.

The ladder, Goneril realised with a sinking heart, that she was crouching right in front of.

She shot back up just in time to see Yves rounding the front of the truck and coming her way.

“Don’t worry.” He called out. “Got myself up.”

As he came closer Goneril suddenly found herself nervous.

“Just coming to wake you.” she muttered, nearly stuttering and hating herself for it.

Yves raised his eyebrows. 

“Took your time, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, well. I’m here now.” She glanced up at the roof of the truck. “You want someone up there with you?”

Normally she’d almost rather die than share a watch with him, but somehow she felt she had to offer. To make up for things, or something. Thankfully, Yves waved her off.

“Nah, I’ll manage. Should do, I’m the best person in history, apparently.”

“Best person ever.” Goneril corrected without thinking. Yves raised an eyebrow again and she winced. 

“Yeah, that’s the one.” He smirked, then turned and scaled the truck, not even bothering with the ladder.

On impulse, Goneril rapped on the side of the truck.

“Hey.”

Yves’ head appeared over the side.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

For eavesdropping on his private conversation. For spending the last seven years expecting him to ditch his child any second. For assuming he took in a baby to catch a married woman’s eye. For stepping on his foot the other day. 

“Sorry I didn’t come wake you.” she said uselessly.

“Go to sleep.” It was too dark to make out Yves’ expression from below, but the impatience in his voice was clear. Then he vanished back over the edge of the roof and Goneril was alone. 

As Goneril got into her caravan and got herself ready to sleep she felt like kicking herself. At no point should she, Fantasia witch and card-reader and certified terrifying old biddy have more trouble being honest in a difficult conversation than the least trusted man in the troupe. There was a rule against it somewhere, she was sure of it.

This was ridiculous.


	4. Hoochie-Coochie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some moments aren't hers to interrupt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because, and I cannot stress this enough, after that debacle Yves and Lilith don't owe anyone who took part in it a damn thing.

Well, Goneril thought as Yves limped away with his daughter in tow, that was a disaster and a half.

Somebody should have said something. Apologised for accusing him of the theft. Apologised for talking about torturing him in front of his own daughter. Thanked him for getting the converter back. Asked him if he was okay.

Anything.

But thinking was easier than doing, and as Goneril trailed after the pair as they headed slowly for their truck, she found she couldn’t say a single bloody thing. Her mouth was opening and closing, but not a single word was making its way out. She really, honestly, had no idea what to say.

Lilith, on the other hand, was having no such trouble.

“Are you okay? What happened? How’d you get it back? Did they hurt you?”

“Alright, alright. Give me a second, yeah?” Yves waved a hand vaguely as Lilith flitted around him and eased himself down, leaning against their truck for balance. His other arm still clutched at his side, and Goneril realised he must have an injury. The ankle had to be giving him hell too. Her medicines worked fast, but they weren’t magic.

“C’mere. Sit down.” Yves patted the ground next to him and Lilith sat with a thud. Yves threw an arm around her shoulders and tugged her to him. On his good side, Goneril noticed. He’d need checking at some point, but Goneril didn’t need to be psychic to know that it wasn’t the time. One sudden, pointed glance from Yves in Goneril’s direction said it all. You’re not welcome. Go away. Leave us alone.

It was hard to blame him.

Goneril moved a little further away and tried to pretend she was checking the latch on her caravan window. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as Yves shuffled himself comfortable and pulled his daughter a little closer.

“Okay. I’m fine.” He glanced at his bandaged foot and then down at his side. “More or less. Ozul and Maska had the converter. Boomer showed me where, and then him and one of the Bird Boys helped me get it back.”

“Why does your side hurt?”

“They got me a few times.” He glanced across at her. “It’s hard to fight on a twisted ankle.”

Lilith snuggled in closer. “You’re really, really good at it, though.”

“Glad I have your approval.”

“Hey, Dad?” Lilith sounded unsure of herself.

“Hm?” Yves grunted in reply.

“I stood up for you.”

Yves ruffled Lilith’s hair absently. “I saw.”

“Even after they took you away I still stood up for you. I told them that you’re doing your best, and you’re the best dad ever, and you love me and you love them, and you’d never ever do what they said you did!”

“Did you?” Yves smiled faintly. “Good girl.”

Lilith’s voice started to tremble as she continued. “And-And when they said they might hurt you to make you talk, or they might make you leave, I told them that whatever they did to you, they’d have to do it to me too.” She sniffled hard, her eyes beginning to water. “Because you’re my dad and you shouldn’t have to be all alone!”

For a long time Yves frowned and said nothing. Lilith’s face creased up and tears started to run down her cheeks.

“Was that bad? Dad, say something. Dad-“ Lilith’s voice rose to a squeak as Yves suddenly twisted in place and dragged her into his lap, enveloping her in a hug so tight Goneril wasn’t even sure Lilith could breathe.

“I love you, Lilith.” Goneril couldn’t see Yves’ face as it was buried in the crook of his daughter’s neck. But she could hear the tremble in his voice and she could see the shaking in his shoulders and she realised with a start that Yves was crying just as hard as Lilith. “You know I do, yeah?”

Lilith nodded tearfully against her father’s chest. “I know, Dad.”

“Yeah?” croaked Yves, gripping her tighter.

“Yeah.” said Lilith, wrapping her arms around his waist to hug him back.

Goneril had to look away. She’d never seen Yves crying, even when Ferdie died. She hadn’t thought it was something that happened. She knew the jokes they made as well as anyone, had made plenty herself over the years. Yves couldn’t cry, because crying meant caring and Yves was a hard bastard, selfish to his bones. It felt wrong to watch him do it now. Like it wasn’t her business. So rather than continuing to intrude she busied herself for a while – checking on Jewel, helping build the campfire, bothering Tane.

It worked for a while. But Goneril was nosy and she knew that, so it was only a matter of time before her curiosity got the better of her and she found herself drifting back to the pair, using the excuse of taking Jewel for a walk round the camp as an excuse to sneak a glance their way. Yves had stopped crying, though his eyes were red and his cheeks were still shining in the light from the setting sun. He sat resting his chin atop Lilith’s head, staring out at Solace in the distance.

“I do love you.” he said, his arms sitting loosely around her waist.

“I love you too, Daddy.”

Yves smiled and his eyes slid shut.

“Good.”

They fell into silence.

Goneril, giving up all pretence of just being out on a walk, sat herself and Jewel down nearby and waited. His ankle and his side needed checking, tonight. She was in charge of the medicines, and this was her job.

And she was a stickybeak. So shoot her.

But Yves still had Lilith in his arms, and for the first time since this debacle had started he looked actually honestly relaxed. So Goneril could wait a bit longer. So she waited as the night dragged on and the fire burned down to embers, leaving the full moon to take over lighting the camp for the night.

Eventually the rest of the Fantasia began to head to their trucks and tents for the night, some lingering near but never quite approaching the pair as they sat. Not welcome. Not now.

Yves seemed not to notice, but Lilith watched them go.

“Are we gonna go back to the others?” asked Lilith, sounding unsure.

“Not yet.” said Yves, eyes still shut, giving Goneril a start. She’d honestly assumed he was asleep.

“Oh.” Lilith fidgeted in her father’s lap. “But you’re supposed to tell everyone what to do next.”

“I can do that tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Lilith sat still for a few seconds, then started to fidget again. She never could stay still for long. “Are you still sad?”

Yves gave a small smile. “A bit.”

Lilith seemed to think for a moment. Then she looked up at her father’s face. “Are you cross with them?” she asked in a small voice.

Yves took a moment to answer.

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Me too.” said Lilith, looking back down at her lap.

Yves’ lips quirked up into a smirk.

“Good.”

There was another brief silence, then Lilith squeaked and bounced in place, making her father grunt and Goneril pity his legs.

“I know! Should I sing for you?”

Yves chuckled, finally opening his eyes.

“Sure, honey. Go for it.”

“Okay, hang on.” She scrambled up from Yves’ lap and darted into their truck, emerging a moment later with her arms wrapped around something large. She moved slowly, taking each step with care, as if her cargo was too valuable to break. She pressed it into Yves’ hands and stepped back expectantly.

Goneril’s eyebrows shot up to her hair as she recognised the object. Yves’ guitar. Yves looked down at it, then up at his daughter dubiously.

“I thought you were singing for me.”

Lilith put her hands on her hips. “I can’t perform without my accompaniment!”

Father and daughter locked eyes in a brief battle of wills which ended with Yves rolling his eyes and beginning to tune his guitar.

“Fine. What song?”

“I’ll let you pick. Since it’s you who needs cheering up.” said Lilith with a gracious smile.

Yves leant over in a mock bow. “So kind.” He drummed his fingers on his guitar, thinking.

“Alright.” He started to strum.

The tune was instantly recognisable. As Lilith squealed in delight and began to sing and strut, Goneril turned and went to douse the last embers of the campfire. She’d need to check on his ankle and that chest injury he was nursing before she went to bed, but she could wait a minute or two longer. Some moments weren’t hers to interrupt.

Behind her, Lilith pulled out all the stops for her adoring audience of one.

_“With your sweet, sweet curls and your button nose, I love you baby, Solis knows…”_


End file.
